Nothing
by ArmagonAuthor
Summary: Tag to "Sex and Violence". One-shot. The ride out of town is uneventful, but the silence is deafening. Sam and Dean have finally realized how far they've fallen.


The car was quieter than Dean had heard it in a long time. Maybe it was quieter than it had been ever. Well… maybe quiet wasn't the right word. Dean, who had brought it upon himself to decide that no conversation would happen, had plugged in an AC/DC tape and was playing it loud enough to blow his precious speakers. But it was quiet in the way that there was no unnecessary noise allowed. Dean didn't sing with his music, Sam's fingers didn't move across the keyboard, no one made any calls, nothing. And that was the way Dean wanted it right now.

Beside him in the passengers seat, Sam was sitting virtually still. It was like he was posing for a depressing add campaign on how to be normal. He seemed to be making extra care not to look at Dean for too long, or to fiddle with the loose thread on his jeans, or to even move in a way that was wrong. It was as if Sam didn't want to draw too much attention to himself.

In a quick glance, Dean noticed that Sam looked like crap. His big-brother instincts should be kicking in soon, he realized. Dean should be pulling over and asking Sam if he needed a bandage for his neck, or ice for his bruises, or anything. Anything and everything. That was what he had given his brother his whole life, just to find out that he was "too weak," and "holding Sam back." So he wasn't in the mood to help Sammy right now. On the contrary, he would be freaking happy if his big-brother instincts never kicked in ever again.

Dean knew that he should let it go. That it had just been the siren's spell putting words in his brother's mouth and making him say all those horrible things. Like that he was too busy feeling sorry for himself for what happened in hell. How could Sam say that? It was _hell_ for god's sakes!

_Ironic…_ Dean brooded angrily. _You wont leave me alone until I tell you what really happened in hell, and then when I do you spit it back in my face. Figures…_

Dean had seen the look Bobby had thrown them as he left, the look that said, "Forgive each other, you igits!" Bobby had tried to tell them that it was just the sirens spell. But Dean knew that it was no spell that made Sam say what he did. He knew Sam had meant it, because Dean had meant what he said to Sam.

There wasn't enough patience left right now to feel sorry about it, because Dean knew that it was true. Yes, Dean had meant it all. When Dean had come back from the pit, he hadn't been given back his brother. The person sitting beside him was someone else. The person beside him was a cold, hard, stubborn, lying, self-appointed dick who never thought he was wrong. That person was not Sam. At least… it hadn't been. But now it was. And Sam wondered why Dean was just a little angry.

_Bring!_ The sound of a phone beside him ringing sent Dean's pulse racing with anger. _That had better not be Ruby…_

Sam didn't answer the phone, but instantly gave Dean a worried look as if expecting a beating. He pulled out the phone, staring at the caller ID, and winced.

_Damninit._

"You should answer that." Dean's voice sounded harsh even to himself, but he didn't mind. Hell, he knew Sam deserved it.

Hesitating, Sam threw Dean another hesitant look. "Look Dean, I don't have to" –

"Just answer the damn phone."

Slowly, Sam opened his phone, and turned away from Dean to lean against the window. His voice was quiet when he said hello.

There was the sound of Ruby's voice on the other end, and Dean could tell by her tone that she was asking him a question.

"I didn't…"Sam's voice was tired, as if this was the last thing he wanted. " No… Not right now. I don't know… Look, this isn't a good time, so… Yeah I heard. No… I can't. Yeah, it kind of is actually. Just… this is a bad time, okay?"

Dean was counting out the seconds until the conversation would be over. He didn't know what was bothering him more right now; his brother's voice or the person on the other end of the line. Maybe it was a tie.

"Don't… No I don't think that's a good idea," Sam continued, getting on Dean's nerves. "Please don't. That will only make things worse…."Sam sighed, the one sound that he still used when he was upset. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Bye." He closed the phone, letting his hand fall to his lap tiredly.

"So…"Dean didn't even bother looking at Sam in the other seat. " Who was that?"

Sam seemed to sense the fight coming, and he hesitated. "Ruby."

Dean huffed loudly. "Big surprise there. So what did she want?"

"She was wondering why I called and hung up on her earlier today."

_Oh yeah_… Dean wondered if Sam would call him out for going through his stuff, for calling the mysterious number just to find out whom it was. But he didn't.

"So what did you tell her?" Dean waited, jaw tensed, for the answer he knew would come.

"Not to call for a while." Sam's voice was unexpressive, as if he hopped it would avoid a fight.

This wasn't the answer Dean expected. Not to call? Wasn't that kind of a turndown in a way? In normal circumstances, he would have been overjoyed. He wanted Sam to finally put that skank in her place. He should have been happy… But not today. Nothing Sam did was going to make him feel better.

Nothing.

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As the car pulled an elaborate turn into the parking lot of the motel, Sam tensed so that he wouldn't have to hit the passenger window as his weight shifted on the seat. Dean, oblivious to the way he was treating his brother or his car, pulled into a parking spot within the space of another few seconds. The door was open before he had even stopped driving, and with his right hand he reached over and turned off the car before Sam was even sure they had stopped. Just as swift was the next motion to unlock the trunk, and Dean made his way to the back of the Impala. Sam, ready to grab his bag as quickly as possible so not to piss Dean off any more than he already had, edged beside his brother and threw an arm into the handle of his bag. Even though they were literally side by side, Sam was still getting the cold shoulder as Dean turned away from him with his duffel and the bag of weapons in one hand, closing the trunk lid without looking to see if Sam had his fingers out of the way yet. Luckily they were, because Sam was sure that, even if he had gotten his fingers slammed in the door, he still would have been snapped on for some reason or other. Getting blood in the trunk, maybe?

Inside the lobby, Dean marched ahead with both bags over his shoulder, pretending that his other arm wasn't hurting like hell. Sam hated to see him doing this to himself, but he knew that it was his fault for saying that Dean was weakl.

"One room, two beds." Dean tossed his credit card on the table and gave the man behind the counter a bitter smile, and the man ran the order through without objections, probably wondering why Dean was glaring so fiercely at him.

"Room 45," the man handed Dean two keys, not after giving Sam a curious glance. Sam gave him a smile back, trying to show that everything was okay, but failed miserably.

Dean gave the man a nod of thanks before walking away. Sam thought Dean was going to walk right past him, but then he stopped long enough to hold out a key for Sam to grab as he walked by. Sam caught it with a smile, which was obviously not returned, before following his brother outside to find their motel room.

Once inside, Dean threw his bags on the bed by the door as usual. Sam sat down on the bed, pulling off his boots and his jacket – also the usual – and wasn't at all surprised to see that his brother did not do the same opposite him. Dean kicked off his boots, leaving them thrown randomly across the floor along with his jacket, and continued into the room as if Sam wasn't there. "I'm going to have a shower," Dean looked in Sam's general direction¸ but not _at_ him.

"Okay," Sam tried to make his voice as normal as possible, trying to channel the most welcoming voice he could fake. He failed again; sounding more sarcastic than kind, and Dean gave him a weirdly angry look. Once Dean had shut the door behind himself, Sam swore inwardly. Well he was just making this worse and worse, wasn't he?!

Sighing, Sam folded his arms behind his head and laid flat on the bed behind him. Dean didn't see "Sam" in him anymore. So he wasn't Sam anymore? Than just who was he? Demon boy? Why not face it, he realized sadly? Nothing he did was going to make Dean feel better.

Nothing.


End file.
